Chapter Eight
There was a hope in the eyes of the McHughs and Sheridan prayed that it would never have to die. They'd been through
so much already in these past two months.
"Now think back to the vision. You saw a school. Did you see anything that might indicate where this school
might be located?" Phillips inquired.
Sheridan closed her eyes for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, trying to remember. It was useless. She covered
her face with her hands, the headache that started earlier this afternoon was getting worse.
"I'm sorry. But that's all I could see. All I know is that I got the feeling that he was holding her in a
house next to the building. We have gone over this a million times," Sheridan said as her voice started to
crack from the pressure she was feeling.
"Look Agent Phillips," Luis said. "Can't you just let her rest for the night. She's not going to
be of any use to anyone if she's too tired."
Agent Phillips hesitantly relented. Everyone was tired and getting extremely edgy. She didn't want anything to
add to that tension.
Sheridan fell asleep on the way back to her apartment. When they arrived, she looked so peaceful, he didn't want
to wake her. He hoped that her dreams would be good ones tonight. Sheridan wasn't a light sleeper. It took a while
to wake her.
An hour later, Luis was in the kitchen, drinking a cup of warm milk. He couldn't sleep. He was thinking about Sheridan
and what she told him about her past and the ability she had gained after the experience.
He couldn't even begin to imagine being connected to a psycho. He wondered how deep the connection went. Did she
feel what he felt? See what he saw? Or was she just a passive observer?
There was a noise coming from the living room. He pulled out his gun and went to check it out. In the living room
was Sheridan. She was digging through drawers as if looking for something important
"Sheridan. What are you doing?" he asked.
Curiously, Sheridan didn't answer. She just kept digging. He slowly approached her. As he stepped up to her, Luis
saw that she was holding a sketch book and pencil. He watched as she sat down at the coffee table and started sketching.
When she was done, she got up from the floor. She left the book on the table. He followed her back to her bedroom
to make sure she made it there safely. He closed the door as she settled back into bed.
For a minute, Luis listened outside her door in case she should get up again. She didn't. Slowly, he made his way
back downstairs. He entered the living room and hesitated. He stared at the sketch book for a couple seconds before
going to look at it.
His eyes widened as he picked it up. Yet another surprise from the lovely Sheridan Crane. It was a beautiful, well-drawn
picture.
It was the picture of a school playground. Near the seesaw was a girl that looked like Rachel McHugh. Behind her,
next to the school building was a small church that looked abandoned. Across the top of the sketch, in block letters
was written, Westford Baptist Church, Westford, Mass.
Westford was just 10 miles south of Harmony. Luis looked at his watch. 5 AM. He hadn't realized how late, or rather,
how early it was. Luis didn't care what time it was. He had to get in touch with the FBI to tell them where this
place was and get Rachel out of there. |
